


The Truth

by agent85



Series: Written Before Season 2 [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How much have you remembered? How long have you known?"</p>
<p>He's never seen her like this, terrified and shaking. He wants to comfort her, but when he steps towards her, she steps back.</p>
<p>"When you told me that Fury pulled us out of the pod, there was something about it that didn't feel right, but nothing was making sense then. The details came in pieces; I had to put them together."</p>
<p>He watches her stomach force the air in and out.</p>
<p>"I see."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank notapepper, EclecticMuse, overcomingthedark, Brenna, and the rest of you for letting me know that there's still interest in these canon balled stories. More are on their way! :)

"I never thanked you," he says one day, handing her yet another blood sample.

"What do you mean?" She takes the vial from him and starts examining it immediately, and he wonders if he's being a coward, waiting for this moment when he only has a sliver of her attention. But it's been months, and out of a thousand moments between now and when his eyes opened, this is the moment where he can get the words out.

"For saving me," he whispers, half-hoping that she won't hear him, that she'll forget that he brought it up.

But she does hear, because she freezes, almost dropping the sample to the floor. He knows that he's ambushed her, and even as the guilt trickles into his heart, he's glad that he said it.

"When," she pauses, and he knows that she's trying to find just the right words, "when did I do that?"

"When you pulled me up from the bottom of the ocean, of course."

He hears the whirring of the centrifuge, and he guesses that it should have stopped by now.

"Who-who told you?"

"Jemma, I remember."

He can't look at her, won't look at her, but when the silence drags on, avoiding her eyes is like holding a breath, so he turns to her and breathes.

He wants to run, to hide somewhere that she won't find him. But he's tossed and turned too many times, aching to know. He can't back down now.

"It's okay, Jemma. I've been trying to tell you-"

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much have you remembered? How long have you known?"

He's never seen her like this, terrified and shaking. He wants to comfort her, but when he steps towards her, she steps back.

"When you told me that Fury pulled us out of the pod, there was something about it that didn't feel right, but nothing was making sense then. The details came in pieces; I had to put them together."

He watches her stomach force the air in and out.

"I see."

"Jemma, it's okay, really." He takes another step forward, and when she steps away, he feels an overwhelming, ridiculous need to hold her. "Jemma, please."

He takes a third step, and she doesn't back away, but he can tell that she wants to. So he gives her his best smile, and allows the space to stay between them, maddening as it is.

"I knew this would upset you, that's why I waited. I just—I couldn't wait anymore. I'm not even sure how much is real."

He waits for her to say something, but eventually, he can't stand it, and he goes to turn the centrifuge off. Now he's standing next to her, within arms reach, and she's still frozen. Yesterday, or an hour ago, he could put his arms around her, and let her cry into his shoulder without a problem. Now, she's looking at him like he's a rattlesnake.

"I don't want any lies between us, Jemma. And I'm not blaming you—I shouldn't have waited until we were on the bottom of the ocean to tell you how I felt. Maybe I never should have told you at all."

He has to lean against the counter, because his strength has left him. 

"Fitz," she says, and he finds her eyes and waits, but she just stares at him, and he knows her well enough to understand that she wants the words to come out of his mouth.

"The drop didn't knock us out, like you said. We were awake. I remember you talking about . . . thermodynamics?" He has to stop, then, because there's this rush of longing as he recalls the way the light made her skin glow, how her words made her even more beautiful, and how he was so enchanted by her that he almost told her everything. He clears his throat. "And, you know, how we figured out how to get through the glass. And I remember that I couldn't get out of there with my broken arm, but you didn't want to leave me behind."

She's watching him as he speaks, but it's like she's waiting for him to explode. He has to say it all before she'll dare to do anything.

"And I remember what I said, Jemma. That part's a bit fuzzy. But you weren't listening, and I had to . . . I had to convince you. So I told you my worst secret. It all went dark from there. The last thing I remember is your face." He scratches his head, "That's also the first thing I remember, come to think of it. You were there at the end and the beginning. So, I just wanted to say, I wanted to thank you. I can't imagine how hard it was to pull me out of there and bring me to the surface."

He looks at her, when he's finished, watching her stare at him. And a day, or an hour ago, he wouldn't have turned away from her when the tears came. Now, as he walks through the doorway, he stops, his eyes on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Jemma. I know that I ruined everything." He wants to tell her that he waited as long as he could, but she has to know that if she knows him at all. So he leaves.

***

"You didn't tell me."

Her voice should startle him, but it doesn't. He knows that if he turns around, he'll see her leaning against the door frame of his bunk, her hands in her pockets and her head down. He examines the wall instead.

"You didn't tell me, Fitz."

He traces a shape into the wall with his finger. "What do you mean?"

"Do you mind if I sit?"

"If  _you_  don't mind."

He finally faces her, and he sees the redness in her eyes as she sits down on the bed next to him, both of them facing the door. He wraps his arms tightly around his pillow instead of her. 

"I am sorry," he says.

"Never mind that. I just—you said it was fuzzy." She folds her hands and puts them in her lap. "You—you didn't actually tell me how you felt. You wanted to show me."

He looks at her, and she has to notice, but she won't look back at him.

"Oh," he says. 

A silence grows between them, thickening as if to push them apart. The centimeters between them are already too much.

After a few, painful seconds, he hears her take a breath. "Do you want to?" she asks.

"Want to what?" He can think of a thousand things he wants, but he knows that's not what she means.

"To tell me." Her eyes flick up to reach his, then back down. "You don't have to. I just—it seems fair."

"Jemma."

"You're supposed to be mad at me," she continues, the fear rising in her tone, "for lying. For taking the last breath. For . . ."

He waits for her to finish, but she doesn't.

"I was mad, at first. Hurt, mostly. Out of all the people in the world, you were the one . . ." He's trying to explain what she is, but maybe he already has. "Anyway, I had time to think about it. I was a coward before, Jemma. I lied to you, too, about why I was treating Trip the way I was. I wanted things to stay the same, forever. I figured that's what you wanted, too." He watches as she gives a shy nod. "Besides, how could I be mad at you?"

"I took the breath, Fitz," A tear falls gently down her cheek. "There was one breath between the two of us, and I took it."

"I gave it to you."

"I shouldn't have let you."

"But there was no other-"

"We're a team, Fitz. You rigged the oxygen tank. You should have taken it."

"What, and swim up ninety feet with a broken arm? Are you mental?"

"There could have been a way."

"Jemma, you saved me. You found the other way."

"No." she's looking at him, finally, her eyes red and her cheeks moist. "No, you were hurt, and you were . . . they didn't even know if you'd wake up. For a long time, I thought I would lose you after all."

"Maybe you should have." 

The words come out of his mouth before he realizes it, and he knows that he can't take it back now, no matter how much he wants to.

"No, don't think that." Suddenly, her arms are around him, and when she lets go, her head fits perfectly in the crook of his shoulder. Somehow, this is worse. "Don't ever think that," she says. 

"I've always needed you more than you've needed me. You would have gotten over it."

"That's not true. You incapacitated Garrett, you distracted the guards so we could get away, and you lead us out of their grasp."

"And right into the storage pod."

"You didn't know that he was going to drop it to the bottom of the ocean. And you sent the signal that lead Fury to us! I wouldn't have survived without you."

She's close enough that he can feel her breathing, and when she inhales, she presses even closer against him.

"All I wanted was for you to survive."

"Fitz."

"Jemma, what do you want?"

She takes her head off his shoulder, and the lack of contact hurts.

He's shaking now, struggling to keep himself together while his body tries to rip itself apart. This is the moment, he knows, when she'll leave him. When she will tear away from him, taking the best parts of him with her.

But he has asked himself this question too many times, and it's played out too often in his dreams. He has to know. So he closes his eyes and asks.

"You said that I gave you the oxygen to show you how I felt. Well, I've got one more question: when you pulled me out of the pod and dragged me up the ninety feet, what were you showing me?  

When he dares to open his eyes, she's there, watching him. Sometimes, he can look into her eyes and know exactly what she's thinking. This time, he is lost.

"I can't live without you, Fitz." She ducks her head. "I had to, for those first few weeks. I tried to keep an eye on you, but there was work to do, and I had to do it alone. The only way I could get through the day was by telling myself that you were just out at lunch." A tear escapes down her cheek, and he brushes it away, letting his hand linger on her jawbone.

"What does that mean?"

She takes his hand and holds it in her own. "I don't know."

"That's okay," he says, wrapping his free arm around her.

"No, it's not."

"It's okay," he says, and she puts her head back on his shoulder, letting him hold her as she shakes. For now, they are two people who couldn't live without each other, he decides. Then, a laugh escapes him, and she looks up to meet his eyes.

"Oh, it's nothing," he explains. "It's just, I spent to long time worrying that you'd hate me if I told you how I felt. Now, here we are."

"It's nice," she says, letting herself fall against him.

"Yeah, it is," he says.

The two scientists sit there for a while, enjoying the silence and each other. Eventually, the words just come.

"I love you, Jemma," he says. He's been avoiding those words for so long, avoiding even thinking them, just in case they would tumble out and push her away for good. But he never realized how those simple words would make the world right.

"I can't live without you, Fitz," she replies, pulling herself even closer to him.

They wake up the next morning, still tangled in each other, and she lets him place a tender kiss on her forehead. He smiles as he tries to decipher the truth behind her eyes. Maybe it's not love, he realizes. Not yet. Right now, what they have is more of a mutual gratitude, a thankfulness for each other. And maybe that's not perfect, he thinks, but it feels that way. At least, it is for now.

And for the future? Well, he thinks, he has her. That's more than he ever dreamed.


End file.
